He gathered her deeper in his arms, stroking soft circles on her firm stomach, sliding his hands over the sweet swell of her hips and up the front of her thighs. Her head rested on his right shoulder, and that lucky arm curled around her body, the tips of his fingers lightly stroking the
tops of her breasts through the thin gown, venturing lower and lower until they just barely swept over hardened nipples.
As he continued to stroke and caress her, the nightgown seemed to melt away. Her silken skin lay under his fingers, the palms of his hands, his lips. Tenderly he tasted the skin of her neck and shoulders, the elegant lines of her shoulders and spine, the fullness of her firm derriere, then turned her towards him and sampled the silk of her breasts, the planes of her belly. He worshipped her body with his hands and lips, this tongue and very gently his teeth. He breathed her name like a prayer "Rebecca."
He woke suddenly. His arms were around her, her hands lay over his own, affirming the tender grip he had on her. His heart was pounding, his unbound nipples pressed against her shoulders through the cotton of his nightshirt and the flannel of her gown. The heat in his belly was trying to consume him. Though her touch was gentle, it was if she had placed shackles on his wrists, binding his arms around her own body. He pressed his forehead against the back of her neck and sighed softly into her hair. The rest of the night was spent suspended in this most exquisite torture.
Chapter 5
Monday, November 7, 1864
C
harlie rose before sunup. This night had been both better and worse than the preceding ones. Rebecca was beginning to invade his dreams as well as his heart, and the results were enough to put the usually even-tempered Colonel into a serious state of melancholy.
He gathered his clothing, pulling on his breast wrap, shirt, trousers and coat. The rest of his clothes he bundled under his arm. Barefoot, he hiked back to his command tent, relishing the cold almost as if it were some sort of self-inflicted penance.
At this hour, the bathing area was always deserted. Charlie posted the sign that indicated the bath was in use, and then quickly submersed himself in the cold stream. A rough shave left him with a small nick in his chin, the price of his own shaking hand. Whether the trembling was from the cold or from his memories of the previous night was not a question that Charlie wanted to look at too closely.
He prepared to don his day uniform –– the outer shell of an officer. A wry, bitter smile played around his lips as he donned the undergarments that hid his true gender and added a certain amount of padding to emulate the appendages of a man in his tight britches.
One more piece of the fraud. Ah, Miss Rebecca. When I wear the trappings of a man, I AM one to you. You flirt, you tease and I respond as any good gentleman would. Yet divest me of my symbols and appearances, let me stand before you as a woman, and I am just a sister, safe and trustworthy. Perhaps I represent the best of both worlds to you –– a charming masculine companion and a safe bed partner. I wish you understood what you are doing to me, dear lady, but I can never explain, can I.
Charlie put on his clothes for the day, and with them, his role as the committed Colonel.
He settled at his desk. It was time for his usual morning routine, reading and writing the dispatches, attending to the paperwork of command. Polk was due back today. With a little luck, his second in command may have found some cigars. His own stock had been stolen in the brush up at Brandy Station. The afternoon would be spent going over the supplies issues and planning the things needed to ensure secure winter quarters for the men.
The morning dispatches included a telegram from Sheridan. It was terse, as usual, but exactly what Charlie needed to hear.
Permission granted. Negotiate fees. NMT 100 / month. Walker arrives Wednesday.
Well, first things first. The daily dispatch to headquarters had to be written and posted with the riders. He had established a chain of outposts along the way so that communications between them could be expedited beyond the terse communications enabled by the telegraph system. Post riders changed horses every hour, and thus could cover about 20 miles an hour instead of the more sedate six or seven that was necessary if you maintained the same mount all day.
Nov. 7, 1864
Outside of Culpeper, Virginia
Lieut. General Philip H. Sheridan
Department of the Shenandoah
Dear General Sheridan
As discussed, Mistress Gaines has consented to allow the 13th Pennsylvania to winter over on her property. I will
immediately negotiate terms for her, and assume that we will issue demand script for the 100 dollars per month for November through March, as is customary. Considering the economic conditions in the area, I am certain that this will represent a welcome influx of income for the area.
I further assume that you have given Polk the necessary budget for setting up winter quarters. If not, please forward such information to me with the next dispatch.
As is policy, we will seek to build positive relations with the
local civilian population. This area has been less affected in terms of the condition of the land and facilities by the war than most other sections of northern Virginia that I have seen. It may provide a basis for beginning the re-constitution of our nation. As such, I will follow the guidelines set down by the President and General Grant for reconstruction of relations. It is my expectation that our mixed troops will be successful in reaching out to the civilian population.
Thank you for assigning Dr. Walker to our regiment
again. She is from this area and will be key to our efforts to form effective relations with the local civilian population. As usual, the 13th Pennsylvania will extend what support we can in terms of labor, medical access and interaction to the community.
I must report a sad event within our forces. Major Montgomery, who has led one of the 13th Penn. companies since the Regiment was created, has been badly injured in a riding accident. The injuries include a severe head trauma and we are unable to predict the outcome at this time. I have written to his family, informing them of his condition, and will continue to monitor and advise you
and his family of his status.
Integration of the forces from the remnants of the 49th Ohio into this regiment continues at a slow, but reasonable pace. I am confident that our forces will be at full strength and working effectively as a team by the spring campaigns. The decision to distribute the men within the existing companies appears to have been effective.
We begin the process of settling into winter quarters
immediately. I expect to be ready for winter inspection, no later than the 15th; assuming funding and resources are provided promptly.
Cordially
Chas. Redmond
Regimental Colonel
13th Pennsylvania Light Cavalry
Once the necessary paperwork was filed, Charlie slipped into his old work clothes, intending to take a run through the extended grounds before the lunch time mess meeting with officers and the afternoon of planning with Polk. Most of the men thought their Colonel’s habit of regularly running long distances was strange. Although he had tried, Charlie had never found a running companion. He found that it provided two benefits that they would never understand. It helped him keep his body weight down, his wind up, and his body profile more like that of a man’s. Second, he had found, quite by accident, that if he stayed more muscular and exercised intensely and regularly, it seemed to stop his courses. When he stopped exercising, his body resumed the normal monthly cycle of a woman.
Running alone did present certain risks. Were enemy scouts to find a regimental colonel without escort, they would attempt to capture or kill him in a heartbeat. When he ran, he dressed as a regular trooper, with hobnail boots, britches and a short, belted tunic. Unlike his officer’s uniform, with its skirted, double-breasted frock coat, this uniform left nothing to the imagination. Charlie made sure that in every way, he presented the profile of a man.
Charlie set out for a long run, heading west away from the encampment. He passed north of the main house, behind the stables and close-in paddocks, across an old hump-backed bridge over Gaines Run and into the western pasturelands on the far side of the pond. After several days of not running, it was a welcome relief, letting his body relax into the old rhythms, his eyes became his sentinels, watching for anything out of the ordinary, and freeing his mind to deal with the problems of the day. By the time he completed his circuit, passing over the log footbridge south of the pond, and back up across the bottom of the back lawn to the stables, he had settled his mind to the task of planning for the winter camp, shoving the dream and the reality of the previous night to the back of his mind. For a while.
Richard Polk and his detachment rode into camp just as Charlie returned from his run. "Polk! Good to see you. Meet me in my command tent as soon as you can. We are wintering over here."
Ah. A distraction. Something else to think about other than Rebecca and last night
’
s dreams.
Charlie dunked his head in a bucket of water, and then hurried off to meet Polk.
Polk walked into the command tent. "Greetings oh fearless commander. I bring gifts from the great warehouse at headquarters –– more cigars. And a small keg of that brandy you like so much." Polk’s sense of sarcasm was irrepressible. With that cheerful greeting, Polk pulled up a small campstool and perched on the other side of Charlie’s field desk. He pulled a portfolio out of his dispatch case and spread the papers in front of him. "All right, I started by chewing that greedy ass at supply out royally for sending us uncured leather boots. We went downhill from there. But after two days of haranguing him and personally going through the supply depot and selecting what we needed, I expect a supply train to show up before the end of the week." Both men gleefully opened the small box of cigars, lit up, savored the first taste of the fulsome smoke and set to work.
By time for the noon mess and the daily stand up with the rest of the command staff, Charlie and Polk had all of the major plans worked out. Additional supplies would be needed, and Polk, with the regimental quartermaster, would attend to getting them by hook or crook. The announcement was made at lunch and each company had its marching orders.
By mid afternoon, the entire regiment was swarming over the Gaines Cove property, sorting, cleaning, digging permanent latrines and generally setting things in order. Charlie set off to personally oversee clearing the stables.
--*--
M
rs. Williams entered the mercantile with a purpose. This was a very serious issue; somebody would have to find out if what she had been told was the truth. She stopped at the counter, waiting for the slightly frazzled man behind the counter to notice her. Finally, he looked up.
"Mrs. Williams, what can I help you with today?"
"Mr. Cooper, is Mrs. Cooper home today?"
"Why of course. Last time I saw her she was in the kitchen. Please feel free to go in if you like." He gestured to the door that led to the residence that was attached to the store.
"Thank you sir."
She entered the house and he just looked up to the heavens. "Lord, help us if that woman has latched on to something."
"Grace?" Mrs. Williams called as she moved down the hall.
"In here."
Mrs. Williams entered the kitchen, pausing to put her hands on her hips. "Grace, have you heard?"
The other woman turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. "Apparently not Margaret. What has you so upset?"
"I was told this morning that Rebecca Gaines has Yankee soldiers on her property."
"Yes? So? What would you have Rebecca do, Margaret, take on a troop of Union soldiers herself? You know there is not much she could do to stop them." She moved across the room and poured two cups of coffee.
"I understand that. But would you like to explain why in the world she was out riding yesterday with the Yankee Colonel."
"She was not?" Now Mrs. Cooper was properly scandalized.
Mrs. Williams nodded as both women took a seat at the table to drink their coffee and have a proper gossip session. "She was out riding with him yesterday. Walking arm and arm with him, strolling like they were betrothed."
"Are you sure it was Rebecca Gaines?"
"Positive. Reverend Williams’ errand boy was out fishing yesterday and he saw them. Said she was dressed in a green velvet hiding habit. Think of it, the widow of a southern war hero gallivanting with a Yankee Colonel. It is shameless. And to top it all off, it was Sunday. She did not even attend services, but she was out with this man, doing God only knows what."
"Surely you do not think¼¼" The rest of the question went unasked but it is meaning was very clear.
"I think anything is possible. She has obviously forgotten her dear husband who fought and died for the glory of the Confederacy. Who knows what kind of things she is doing with that Yankee."
"Do you think we should go see for ourselves? I mean it is one thing to take the word of a boy, but it is entirely another thing to see with your own eyes."
"Yes, oh absolutely I do believe a visit out to Gaines Cove is certainly called for."
"Perhaps if Mrs. Gaines is under some sort of duress we can find a way to help her."
"It is our duty as good Christians."
"Of course. I find it difficult to believe that a good woman like Rebecca Gaines would willingly take up with Yankee rabble. I am sure there must be some sort of force being used against her."
"Do you think that the Colonel has¼¼"